Our Lives
by Evilism
Summary: DMHG.Hermione discovers a secret garden, and somebody isn't happy about it. Rated for colourful language, mild violence and dark themes. I didn't want you kiss me because of magicDraco Malfoy.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer – Not mine. Only the plot.

Summary – "It's because I didn't want to push you away. Granger….Hermione, I kissed you because I love you. Don't ask me how it came about—I don't know myself. But I do love you, and I don't want you to kiss me simply because of magic" – Draco Malfoy

The title came from The Calling's song, Our Lives. I listened to it while writing this…it's a inspiring song that's simply amazing, if I do say so myself.

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**OUR LIVES**

These are the days worth living  
These are the years we're given  
And these are the moments  
These are the times  
Let's make the best out of **our lives.**

"You'll regret this, Granger," warned Draco, when Hermione defiantly stepped into the room. She hadn't known that this room even existed; in fact, she suspected that nobody but Draco was aware of it. She pointedly ignored his glares and glowers. The room was breath-takingly beautiful. Midnight blue roses grew in rosebushes that surrounded a crystal fountain. In the fountain, which circumference was as wide as a Hermione's dorm, silvery hydras raised their many heads and gazed at the astonished Gryffindor. Once or twice, she thought that she saw fleeting movements accompanied by tinkling laughter that reminded her of wind chimes.

It was a labyrinth designed to resemble a garden of unimaginable beauty.

"Get out," he spat rudely, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"It's not yours," she retorted, equally rude.

"Yes it is," he shot back. "It's mine," he added more quietly.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the sylph that encircled them. "What do you mean?" she asked suspiciously. As far as she knew this room wasn't listed in Hogwarts: A History, and thus, its existence was either forbidden or unknown like the Chamber of Secrets.

"Never you mind, Mudblood," Draco replied curtly. Then, he seemed to fight an internal struggle with the voices in his head. Finally, he glared at her and said, "I created it. Partly."

"Partly?"

"Father told me about this. He told me to find the room that Salazar Slytherin created for….for Rowena. But the room was incomplete when I found it last year. Apparently, they were once in…in….you know."

Hermione smirked at Draco's inability to say the L-word. Typical male, she thought.

"But when she left him after his proposal to rid Hogwarts of Mudbloods, he left too. When I came in, it was in utter chaos. But I found some books in the library that helped me reconstruct it. Almost."

"But it's beautiful," said Hermione, as though she could never believe that beauty was something to be associated with Draco.

He scowled before answering. "Yeah, well, I didn't design it. Salazar did. I found the plans, and just…..put things where they should be."

"Of course you did," she answered with a discreet smile on her face. "Now, what may this be?" she asked herself when a cherubic babe handed her a golden arrow. "You can't be Cupid," she told the babe. "He shoots, not hands."

"Don't!" shouted Draco, and threw himself at her. They struggled with the arrow for a moment, but when Hermione pricked herself, Draco hurriedly leapt behind the bushes.

"You moron!" she screamed at Draco, and dabbed at the drop of blood on her index finger. "Get here right now!" Cupid only looked innocently at Hermione, and jabbed his thumb behind the rose bushes to indicate where Draco was. She muttered her thanks while fuming, and gave Draco's legs, that were sticking out behind him, a vicious kick.

"Ow!" he yelled, but he still wouldn't come out. "Get out of here, Granger! Or you'll regret this!"

She couldn't take it any longer. Muttering a fire spell, Hermione duly set fire to his robes. That, naturally, did the trick. Draco leapt up and beat the fire out of his robes, and found Hermione staring at him.

"Oh, no…." she said.

He realised with a shock what she had done. Cupid only threw them a bright smile, and flitted off into the darkness.

"I told you that you'll regret this!" he exploded. When her face fell, he bit his lip and took a deep breath. "Do you?" he added quietly. Hermione thought that she heard a tinge of hope in his voice.

"If there was one person that I fall in love with," she replied dryly, "it would never be a stinking ferret like you."

"I thought so." His voice sounded hollow.

"But Cupid…" her voice trailed off.

"I know. You pricked yourself, and thus, you're in love with me. You can't fight it."

"It doesn't affect you?" she questioned wonderingly. "Since you weren't hurt by his arrow?"

There was a very pregnant pause in the air before Draco's voice was heard.

"Cupid's arrow has no effect on me," he said finally. "It only affects the person whom he gives the arrow to. Even so, you would only be under the charm if you pricked yourself. I guess the Cupids wanted to change the rule about 'Falling in love on one's own accord," he laughed bitterly.

Hermione felt her cheeks burning with anger. It was true—she was falling deeply in love with him, despite telling herself that he was a 'bloodist' who called her a Mudblood at every opportunity. He bought his way into the Quidditch field, he only got good grades for Potions because Snape favoured him and...

And he was very exceptional. Her eyes lingered a little longer on the way his white blond hair brushed against the top of his collar. He was resting his hand on a marble bench by the fountain, his fingers deftly playing with his wand. Occasionally, it would drop, but Draco always managed to catch it before it hit the ground. How could she not see how graceful he was?

Behind him, a full crystal moon hung serenely in the black velvet backdrop. She realised that he could be good-looking when he wasn't busy sneering or spitting insults at her and her friends. And those grey eyes were gazing at her with something that hinted of concern.

"You said that if there was one person that you would fall in love with," he repeated her words, "it'd never be me."

He sat down on the marble bench and gestured at her to do the same.

"So, Granger," he continued carefully. "Do you feel any different? Now?"

She sank onto the cold marble, but she could feel the warmth radiating off his presence.

Warmth? She asked herself. From a Slytherin? Maybe I am going crazy…..

"Nothing has changed," she answered in a strained voice. "Nothing at all."

He could have looked overjoyed, but he didn't. Instead, he just said, "Good. We should go. Thank Lucifer for the faulty arrow…. I guess even Cupids make mistakes." His tone was void of emotion.

"Yeah," she echoed, equally empty. She told herself that he hadn't grown taller since last year. She insisted that he was being civil with her simply because he was forced to. She reminded herself that she could never love someone like him, someone who once served Umbridge.

She lied like a champion.

"Just….one thing." Draco's hand didn't turn the doorknob. "Do you really think that I'm a stinking ferret nobody could ever like?"

Her response was a kiss. It was a virgin kiss for the both of them; of course, Draco had kissed Pansy before, but not that way. And Hermione never let Viktor Krum kiss her on the lips. If the kiss was a living creature, she would be described as nervous, but excruciatingly sweet. Draco was rather tall, but they fitted so perfectly in each other's arms that it seemed as though nothing could be awkward. Her hair fell back behind her, while his locks drooped into her eyes, soft and caressing on her face. She found it hard to breathe; she didn't know whether it was pure bliss or sheer forbiddance. Draco seemed to be putting everything in to kissing her one last time, before she went to one of the teachers for an antidote. In fact, he was putting everything into the kiss. It ignited something inside her, but she didn't know what. All she did know was that the moon was above them, the hydras were playing in the water, and that she was kissing Draco Malfoy in the garden-room. It was Draco, whose lips was locked with hers, and if there was such thing as a perfect moment, then this was definitely one.

It seemed terrible when he pulled away. When she opened her eyes, she found him staring at her in anguish, and the resigned look on his face was chilling.

"We can't do this," he mouthed the dreaded words. "It's not right."

Hermione felt her eyes stinging, but she would never admit them to be tears. "Why not?" she asked quietly.

He still hadn't let go of her hand. "The thing is, Hermione," he said slowly, "you can tell everyone that you've kissed Malfoy because of Cupid's arrow. You can blame it on that cherub who caused this. But I can't. That's the difference between the both of us. I kissed you…although I could have pushed you away."

She looked up at him.

"It's because I didn't want to push you away. Granger….Hermione, I kissed you because I love you. Don't ask me how it came about—I don't know myself. But I do love you, and I don't want you to kiss me simply because of magic."

Tears fell from her eyes. She couldn't answer. _Even if hopes were shattered, she thought, I know it wouldn't matter. Because I have found the perfect moment. I don't know if it would still be perfect after Madam Pomfrey has dealt with this. I don't even know if I'd remember any of this later. But I do know that the difference between Draco and I is that he loves me, even if Cupid didn't exist. _

"Maybe we can continue this one day….if you're still willing to kiss me when the magic wears off, that is." he finished, and opened the door for her.

_Cupid smiled from his seat among the clouds. It was the first time he had ever seen the fair-haired boy acting civil with someone who wore the robes of a Gryffindor. Long ago, Salazar had appointed him to make Rowena his worshipful partner, but the woman never had a chance to step into the room. Now, a new story was weaving itself before Cupid's eyes. He had played his part, and the days hereafter would unveil new revelations. Cupid almost felt regretful. The girl wouldn't remember the kiss after today, but the boy would. Perhaps there was a chance for them to fall in love again? And when that happened, Cupid hoped that it would take place under a crystal moon with the laughter of nymphs in the background._

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**A/n:** Please tell me what you think; I'd love to hear your thoughts, whether they're just two words or two hundred sentences.


	2. Nothing's Changed At All

Disclaimer – Not mine. Only the plot.

Rating – R

Summary – Against her better judgement, Hermione seeks Madam Pomfrey's help to free herself from the binding effect of Cupid's arrow.

The title of this chapter was taken from The Calling's Nothing's Changed At All.

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**Chapter 2 - Nothing's Changed At All**

And I remember, and I recall  
And I can see that nothing's changed at all  
Though we falter, we don't have to fall  
And I can see that **nothing's changed at all**

Draco heard Hermione's footsteps fade sadly away. He knew that she was going to get the antidote for Cupid's potent love charm, and he didn't blame her. Although under the effect of the golden arrow, Hermione still retained enough pride to not turn herself into a simpering Pansy Parkinson. He smiled ruefully as he made his way to the bathroom.

Although Draco could never admit it to anyone unless he was forced-fed with Veritaserum, Hermione possessed many traits that he wished Pansy would, at least, make an effort to emulate.

She was emotionally intelligent enough to differentiate lust from love; not even Cupid could change that. Sometimes, he wished that she wasn't born to Muggle parents. Most of the times, he wanted her to desert her honourable, goody-two-shoes, insufferably knowledgeable attitude, and join his circle. Then again, that was exactly why he admired her. He wasn't sure if he could still see her in the same light if she morphed into another deceitful, scheming creature who was obsessed with bloodlines.

Like his father.

With a gasp, Draco staggered into a cubicle and shut the door clumsily. His vision was already blurring and nausea overtook him, causing the Slytherin to throw up in the toilet. The sword-shaped pendant that he wore on a silver chain around his neck glowed with iridescent blue-white light that grew increasingly brighter with each passing second.

_No, Father._

He could feel Lucius's wrath, channelled through one of the spells he once saw in the library of Dark Arts book in his manor.

_The young boy of seven's grey eyes were transfixed on the repulsive diagrams on a yellowed page. He didn't understand the words that his father was pointing at—they were written in old antiquated Latin. Strangely, he recognized a single word on the page, one which his father's gnarled finger missed._

_Crucio_

_He'd heard that word more times than anyone thrice his age would have heard in a lifetime. His father would instruct him to sit in the huge, dark green armchair, and he'd see how by pointing a wand at tarantulas, salamanders or other living creatures, the spell could render them helpless and twitching. Those that could scream did, while others, like the spiders, bore the pain in silence. Lucius had exposed and taught Draco a Forbidden Curse when he was merely a child._

_"You see, Draco," drawled Lucius with a chilling glint in his right eye, "there are many derivatives of the Cruciatus Curse. It is, to put it simply, one of the most versatile spells ever discovered. Past wizards have devised ingenious ways to incorporate this delightful spell into various artefacts, or even other curses themselves."_

_Draco stared at his father, his white-blonde head nodding to indicate that he understood. Nobody told him that such information was too advanced for a young mind to process, so he didn't know. He thought that every child on earth knew about such things. _

_"This miniature Condamnus sword, for example," continued Lucius, "delivers a mild 'dose' of the curse to its wearer, if he disobeys his master through perfidy."_

_"Perfidy, father?" asked young Draco. He weighed the pendant with his left hand—it was light and didn't seem too dangerous. Emerald and ruby shaped like perfect spheres studded it, but its blade was pure silver. It was so beautiful that Draco couldn't take his eyes off it._

_"Treachery," explained Lucius. "In other words, it is impossible to double cross me, if I were to instruct you to wear this around your neck."_

_Draco gasped. The miniature sword didn't seem so harmless, as he looked at it now. In fact, the redness of the rubies reminded him of blood. He shuddered._

_"Don't worry, Draco my son," smiled Lucius, although the smile ended at his lips, "I wouldn't ask anything of you."_

_Draco breathed a sigh of relief._

_"Yet."_

Before Lucius was thrown into Azkaban, he asked his son to hug him one last time. Draco squeezed his eyes close as the searing pain ripped through his body. The hug was a guise for Lucius to force the chain with the sword on it around Draco's neck. "You will serve the Dark Lord now," he rasped before the Aurors could pull him off. "And if you ever do fraternize with Mudbloods, this should put things right. Remember…..it is Mudbloods that caused your beloved father's departure."

He had since worn the chain around his neck like a filial son. In actuality, nobody but Lucius himself could remove the chain from around Draco's neck. Kissing Hermione had set off an explosion of emotions that started a chain reaction, leading to his current state of suffering. As he fell to the ground on all fours, writhing in pain, he tasted the sweetness of the kiss. He felt Hermione's arms around him, soothing, cooling and bringing salvation.

The five minutes spent in the bathroom seemed like an eternity, but even eternities are a lot shorter when he realised that he had done the one thing that he had always wanted to do.

_We can't go on thinking it's wrong to deny what's inside, _he thought, as he splashed some cool water on his almost bloodless face.

It pained him more than the Crutiatus Curse, to think that Hermione had only kissed him because of Cupid's arrow.

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"An _Amorous Pesticidiens_ stung you?" Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Which caused you to be fall head over heels for the first male you saw?"

Hermione fidgeted with the tankard-like mug Madam Pomfrey handed her. It was filled to the brim with a frothy, glutinous, multicoloured substance. "I know it sounds implausible," she began, but Madam Pomfret raised a hand imperiously.

"Pray tell, dear girl, where did you find that plant?" she asked with a little smile teasing the corner of her plump lips. "As far as I know, that's a very dangerous species…and believe me, I know a lot."

Hermione hesitated. Mentally berating herself for coming up with such an unconvincing and illogical excuse, she decided to come clean. _If Dumbledore wanted to raid the room, then I can't do anything,_ she told herself. _Draco has no right to keep it to himself, anyway. It's school property now._ But somewhere beneath her matter-of-fact way of dealing with life, something was rebelling. Part of her knew that the secret garden was sacred; it was where the sky was always night. Where hydras weren't bloodthirsty behemoths, but graceful dwellers of the crystal fountain. Where the laughter of nymphs could always be heard.

It was where she found that Draco Malfoy actually loved her.

To her shock, she realised that she the feeling was mutual. _Then again, it must be Cupid. There couldn't have been any other way. It was all simply due to the atmosphere_, she told herself. _We weren't in love. Nobody falls in love with someone else after years of animosity. You can't call magic true love._

_I must have been crazy. _

"I was pricked by Cupid's arrow," she confessed to the reproachful witch. "Do you have the antidote? Because I need it."

"Mmm…" muttered Madam Pomfrey, unconvinced. She removed the tankard from Hermione's shaking hands, and drew the curtains around them. "This requires more than potions," she said, almost to herself. "Was the young man pricked by an arrow too?"

"No," replied Hermione detachedly. "At least, that's what he claims."

Madam Pomfrey stopped in the middle of emptying a sachet of ashes into a jar of water to give Hermione an odd look. "Are you sure?" she questioned with a tone that suggested astonishment. "Cupids usually go for both the people whom he intends to match make. You said that he only handed a single arrow?"

_Why is she being such a nosy nuisance? _"I'm certain," answered Hermione stiffly. She wished fervently that Madam Pomfrey would hurry up with the spell or antidote that would put everything right again. A towering pile of Arithmancy homework popped into her mind, causing the Gryffindor to smile despite herself. _Even at times like these_, she thought, _I'm still thinking about homework._

Madam Pomfrey finished with the new potion—it fizzed and swirled on its own, even when no one was stirring it. Hermione took a tentative sniff—it didn't smell foul, at least. She prepared to take a gulp.

"Then my guess is, my girl, Cupid realised that he needn't waste an extra arrow," commented Madam Pomfrey with a thoughtful look on her face.

Hermione took a huge gulp. At first, a sense of serenity enveloped her, followed by a ticklish sensation as though something was wiping her mind like the back of a slate. It tasted like distilled water at first. After a couple more gulps, the effects became more profound—and painful. As more of her memories started to fade away, Hermione found herself clinging desperately to them, refusing to let them go. _Why are my eyes stinging? _

_Shouldn't I be happy to forget the kiss? To forget sharing the deepest kiss imaginable with someone who would turn into a Death Eater one day?_

"It's only the second time I perform a de-affectionate spell," muttered Madam Pomfrey. "I hope this goes well."

Draco whispering that he loved her. His head outlined in the midnight sky, with scintillating stars behind him. The most unforgettable kiss she had ever tasted. Everything blurred like ink on a page that has been soaked in tears.

The only thing that kept Hermione from crying out for Madam Pomfrey to stop the spell was her desire to be freed from the charm. Or did she?

"Only a little more to go," soothed the witch. "Soon, you wouldn't even know what you're doing here."

_I'll forget the kiss. I'll forget his words. I won't even remember that I was in love. That is good…..right?_

"You… said," she struggled to get the words out, "That Cupid didn't….want to waste….an….extra arrow……. _Why?_"

The spell ended just as abruptly as the misery had seized her. She fell back onto the bed in the hospital wing, her head no longer throbbing. Her heart no longer beat a million heartbeats a second at the thought of a certain blond Slytherin. She didn't even know why Madam Pomfrey was staring at her sympathetically.

"He must have loved you so much that even Cupid sensed that an arrow was unnecessary," said Madam Pomfrey softly.

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A/n: THANK YOU, **aeternus aenigma, xAmayAx, WisdomandWonder505, natty123, Angel9, Arieslilbabe, whogirl, blondkellycrazy, Tiarwen, MidnightPrincess, Bea, Kumiko Yamashita, sapphireblaze07, Monica7725, nightxXxshade, spidey girl83 and Marionette **for your encouraging reviews! You brightened up my day! To anyone who's reading this, please leave a review! You don't have to comment on everything (though it'd be great if you did)…like I said, it can be two words, and I'll still appreciate it.

Next chapter preview:

_"Hermione Granger," wrote Draco. The fingers on his right hand held the broken Condamnus sword, which was still attached to its silver chain. Now he was free—free from the spell that bound him to Lucius. Free to shatter the façade he had been hiding behind for too long a time. "Hermione, do not bother sending this letter to Professor Dumbledore or anyone else, for that matter. I wrote this using Secretio potion, which means that only you can read this……._


	3. Strangers Till Now

Disclaimer – I own nothing except the plot.

Summary -_Hermione, do not bother sending this letter to Professor Dumbledore or anyone else, for that matter. I wrote this using Secretio potion, which means that only you can read this. – Draco Malfoy_

The title was taken from the Labyrinth soundtrack, As the World Falls Down.

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**Chapter 3 – Strangers Till Now**

I'll paint you mornings of gold  
I'll spin you valentine evenings  
Though we're **strangers till now**  
We're choosing the path between the stars

Draco Malfoy dug a heel into the carpet grass beneath him. The Garden Room had become his unofficial secret chamber; a place where he could find solace and take comfort in the evernight sky. There was one thing that he didn't tell Hermione, though. He had found a journal, written in what he suspected was Salazar's handwriting. Millennia ago, wizards jotted their daily thoughts on scraps of paper, just as Muggles did. Pensives were only created two centuries ago.

_Mudblood__….filth!_

The words leapt out at Draco, causing the Slytherin to suck his breath in with shock. He hadn't known that Slazar had felt so strongly about Muggles. He read on.

_A woman with a long, thick, ruddy braid trailing down her back stood on what look like an endless desert of red sand. She had dark green eyes that spoke volumes of the intelligence she possessed. Each of her fingers wore intricately-designed rings—one of them had a cobra's head carved into it. Her face wasn't stunningly beautiful, but beneath the freckles and tangled lashes, one could see that she was no ordinary witch. She seemed to waiting for someone._

_A gust of wind whipped stray tendrils of hair into a frenzy. The wind became stronger, that the woman reached for her wand to expel the sand from her eyes. Before she could mutter any incantation, however, a whirlwind of red sand in the shape of a snake raced towards her, stopping only when she held a hand up. _

_"Always the theatrics," she smiled._

_The sand figure of a gargantuan snake crumbled, and in its place stood a wizard who was also smiling. Unlike the woman's smile, this wizard smiled the smile of someone who was proud, cunning and self-satisfied. But the both of them looked happy. _

_"Would you have expected otherwise?" the silver-haired wizard extended a hand gracefully to the witch, who was shaking her head and laughing. He was clothed entirely in black and green—only his white-blond hair and deep blue eyes added variety to the robes of black and amulets of green that he wore. _

_"From Salazar Slytherin, nay," replied the woman, thus confirming Draco's guess that the enigmatic newcomer was Salazar. She was looking at him with the look Hermione had when she was under Cupid's charm. Then again, the wizard possessed an unearthly beauty not commonly seen. "Why did you suggest for us to meet at the __Goblin__Desert__?"_

_Salazar tilted his head towards the blood-red sun that was just setting. He didn't reply immediately, but instead, he lowered his head and drew the woman into a kiss. It seemed as though they had been separated for decades, judging from the way they both smiled into the kiss, and stretched the minutes on so that it seemed like the moment lasted for an eternity. _

_When the kiss ended, the sky had turned into a glittering curtain of green and black. Even the red sand at their feet became a fine crystalline carpet of jade dust. The setting sun was still red, but the sky around it was tinged with shades of green. Salazar found himself staring into the eyes of a surprised woman._

_"This….." began the woman, but she couldn't continue. "How did you…."_

_"That's not important," answered Salazar. "What you should be wondering is, why."_

_The woman blinked in wonderment as her eyes took in the green backdrop. The desert was still a desert, but it was in the most gorgeous shades of green imaginable. Suddenly, her eyes landed on Salazar, who was now wearing robes of deep green with black trimmings. Realisation clouded her eyes, and she smiled._

_"You have chosen the colour of your house," she said with a familiar matter-of-factness in her voice. "Green."_

_"Brilliant as always, Rowena my Rowena," whispered Salazar with the ghost of a smile teasing his lips. "But you left out one thing—of all colours, why green?"_

_The answer was reflected in her emerald eyes._

Draco put the book down and frowned. Why would Salazar write about himself in third person? More puzzlingly, he and Rowena weren't speaking in old antiquated English….was the journal a hoax? Unless….Draco's mind spun. _Unless it was written by someone else, recently.__ By someone who knew what happened a thousand years ago, and lived to tell the tale. _

He looked up and found himself staring at Cupid. The guardian of the Garden Room. The one who gave Hermione the golden arrow.

_The one whom Salazar appointed to make Rowena fall in love with him…..again._

"You wrote this," said Draco quietly. It wasn't a question. Cupid stared back with eyes that beamed of innocence. "And you gave her your arrow."

Cupid smiled brilliantly, and lifted his palms to indicate that they were empty. No bows, no quivers of arrows. Nothing.

"Why did you do that?" whispered Draco. Sparks of anguish sparkled beneath his eyelids. He was a Slytherin, and Slytherins, though ambitious and driven by determination, could be dangerous creatures when pushed. "It was your last arrow, wasn't it? The legendary golden arrow that Cupids use only once in their lifetime… I know it was a golden arrow that pricked her finger."

"It's useless, you know," Draco said more to himself. "Even if she did love me…which I know wouldn't happen in this lifetime, it'd still be a waste of a good arrow. She didn't have options….even if she did, I don't," he chuckled bitterly. "Have you ever heard of the Condamnus Sword?" He cradled his head in his arm.

Cupid nodded, and at the precise moment, Draco thought he heard the clink of metal hitting marble. He looked down, and the next sound he heard was that of his jaw crashing to the ground.

With trembling fingers, Draco retrieved the broken necklace that bore the abominable sword of torture. His other hand felt the hollow of his throat—for the first time since he was thirteen, Draco felt liberated. No more pledges to kiss the robes of a resurrected wizard. No more sealed fates of predetermined destinies. No more sessions of perfecting his Crutiatus Curse….

Nothing. Just a window of opportunities, and an unopened door of dreams. Now, all he had to do was turn the doorknob.

Cupid watched as the fair-headed boy transformed from a wearied teenager with the years of one who was ten thousand days old, into a sixteen-year-old who held his head just as Salazar used to, when he was in his youth. The winged cherub studied Draco intently. He was the second person to walk through the doors of the Garden Room, since Salazar's demise. And when he did, Cupid almost fell off his cloud, for he thought that Salazar was somehow reincarnated in the body of a teenager. How both Slytherins resembled each other! And when Draco started to work on reconstructing the room and the crystal fountain, Cupid was reminded of how Salazar used to slave over his secret garden room, which he created for Rowena.

And the girl whom Draco kissed…..

Cupid didn't know why, but he wanted them to be together. He sensed that nothing could be more beautiful than the union of the boy and the Gryffindor girl—and Cupid had seen beauty inconceivable to mortals' minds. He might be a cherub, but then again, time stands still for the Guardian of the Garden Room.

"I don't know how you did that," breathed Draco. "Or why." He didn't finish his sentence. There was much to do. He smiled to himself. _First,_ he thought craftily, _a traditional love letter. The Malfoy way._

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**Owl Post 1**

**Sender – Draco Malfoy**

**Recipient – Hermione Granger**

**Status – SENT**

_Hermione Granger_,

_Hermione, do not bother sending this letter to Professor Dumbledore or anyone else, for that matter. I wrote this using Secretio potion, which means that only you can read this. _

_First, I must congratulate you. You have proven to be capable of stupidity and intelligence at once. You may be able to rattle off names and dates regarding the soporific Goblin Rebellion, but you've forgotten the one thing that I've given you, that isn't fake or contrived._

_Ah, yes. You're wondering what it is, yes? You're frowning at this moment, trying to figure out who I am, and why have I decided to make your rosy life miserable. I can tell you something, Hermione: someone out there is watching you. Someone who probably knows more about you that you think. _

_In other words, someone out there has fallen in love with you. He might not show it in his actions….or his speech, but that doesn't mean that he loves you any less. Sometimes he hates himself for feeling that way. Other times, he hates you for it. But most of the time, he's happy to know that you once loved him back, even if you don't remember it now._

_He is _

_Your__ Peregrinus_

_

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**Peregrinus** means 'stranger' in Latin.

At any rate, thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!

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	4. Where Do We Go From Here?

A/N: Chapter 4 done at last! Thanks so much to those who reviewed…YOU'RE THE GREATEST! This chapter's for you, yes YOU! And don't say that you don't deserve it or anything—your reviews brightened up my day, inspired me, and, well, it gave me an extra something to look forward to. )

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**OUR LIVES**

**Chapter 4 – Where Do We Go From Here?**

"Excuse me? Granger? No, Malfoy, you are to refer to me as _Miss_ Granger from now onwards. At least, during our sessions together, that is."

The platinum tip of Draco's Firebird quill dug so hard into his parchment that it left an indent in the polished mahogany desk he was writing on.

"You make it sound like a bloody marriage therapy," he snapped angrily as Hermione stood before him with a superior smile on her face. "Sessions together my foot!"

Her cheeks turned a shade darker at the mentioning of 'marriage therapy' but managed a grim smile nevertheless. "Stop whining," she said shortly, "and I expect that essay to be completed within an hour."

"Tyrant," muttered Draco audibly. "Do you know what they do to autocratic tyrants, _Miss _Granger? They get rid of them—and they aren't entirely adverse to using unsavoury methods too, _Miss _Granger."

"I'll bet that 'they', whoever 'they' may be, are highly skilled assassins and not inept schoolboys whose grades are so pathetic that his Transfiguration Professor had to subject him to extra classes by me!"

Draco growled but returned to his essay titled 'How to Remedy Erroneous Transfiguration'. He'd pay her back, of course. No Muggleborn deserved to humiliate a Malfoy by being his tutor.

Not even if she was Hermione Granger.

Hermione made sure that Draco's back was turned before producing a piece of parchment that had been tested by various charms but betrayed nothing. She'd received that letter the day before, and it was the exact reason why a good night's rest had deserted the Gryffindor.

_Hermione, do not bother sending this letter to Professor Dumbledore or anyone else, for that matter. I wrote this using Secretio potion, which means that only you can read this._

She was impressed. Not many students—assuming that the sender was a student—could concoct a Secretio potion successfully. The ingredients that went in were hell to find, for one thing.

_First, I must congratulate you. You have proven to be capable of stupidity and intelligence at once. You may be able to rattle off names and dates regarding the soporific Goblin Rebellion, but you've forgotten the one thing that I've given you, that isn't fake or contrived._

_Ah, yes. You're wondering what it is, yes? You're frowning at this moment, trying to figure out who I am, and why have I decided to make your rosy life miserable. I can tell you something, Hermione: someone out there is watching you. Someone who probably knows more about you that you think._

A chill ran down her spine as she read the words again. Whoever the writer was, she was certain that he wasn't a friend.

_In other words, someone out there has fallen in love with you. He might not show it in his actions….or his speech, but that doesn't mean that he loves you any less. Sometimes he hates himself for feeling that way. Other times, he hates you for it. But most of the time, he's happy to know that you once loved him back, even if you don't remember it now._

The last part, however, made her scoff. If anything, Peregrinus was certainly an amateur when it cam to penning love letters. And an incorrigible liar too, if she might add. How could she have loved someone and yet not remember anything? It was abysmally absurd.

But that didn't mean that she was any less curious about the sender's identity. She had already ruled out Viktor, Ron or any other boy she knew. Except, perhaps, a few.

She wrote Harry's name on the back of the letter. There was a big question mark there—for one thing, he was certainly able to whip up a decent advanced Potion. For another….

"Why," said an agonized voice at her elbow, "are girls always pining for Scarface? Can't anyone see that he's nothing but an empty pothead?"

Hermione blushed furiously and snatched the parchment off the table. She didn't have to know that Draco was standing behind her, reading everything that she'd written.

"Don't just sneak up like a slitherin' snake!" she snapped hotly, as Draco's asinine grin grew wider. "And I'm not pining for Scarface! I mean, Harry!"

"Well," said Draco as he raised an arched eyebrow, "I certainly hope that you aren't going into denial, because the next stage is Lunacy."

"You know what?" asked Hermione furiously as she glared at the pale Slytherin, "I don't have to justify anything. What I do is none of your business, Malfoy."

"Besides," she added half to herself, "I know that he has a thing for Ginny."

Silence. Then—

"Don't want to be the 'other woman', I see," said Draco softly, "same old self-sacrificing Granger."

Hermione felt uneasy under his gaze, which seemed to analyze every part of her. "Still going around making girls miserable by breaking their hearts I see," she said scathingly, "same of Malfoy."

Draco stared at her in confusion. "I don't understand," he said.

Hermione glared at him. "No?" she shot back. "I know that you had a fling with Lavender when you're supposed to be Pansy's boyfriend. And thanks to you, Amelia Bones now informs everyone every two seconds that 'the hottest boy at school' winked at her in the Great Hall. For someone who encourages girls shamelessly without any intention of taking anything further, you have no right to comment on my love life."

His eyes hadn't left her. "No," he repeated. "What I meant was, I didn't understand how you knew about me breaking unsuspecting girls' hearts," he said finally.

Her eyes met his, and she shivered. It was like looking into a mirror that looked back at you, and didn't want to let you go.

"After all," continued Draco, "None of the hearts that I broke was yours."

She wanted to say, "Just take your damn essay and get out," but her voice seemed to be caught in her throat.

"Everyone knows," she said at last, and tore her gaze away from Draco's. "First Pansy. Then Lavender. Then-"

"Oh, _everyone _knows, don't they?'" interrupted Draco crossing his arms across his chest, "Just like _everyone_ knows how you have a thing for Potter?"

"I told you not to discuss my love life!"

"Then don't discuss mine," he sneered.

Hermione wished that she could perform an Unforgivable curse on a fellow student. If there was one thing that she'd like to do, it was making Draco mount his flashy broomstick and then jump off when he was a hundred feet in the air.

"You started it," she said angrily. "Let's just say that I'm currently single at the moment and not the least bit deprived."

"Liar," said Draco automatically.

Her wand sparked dangerously, and she felt a flush creeping up her neck. Being alone with Draco certainly had adverse effects on her sanity.

"What's it with you?" she half shouted as he stood unmoving in front of her. She wished that she could wipe the smirk off his pale ferret face. Even better—wipe him off the face of earth for once and for all. "There's just something utterly hatable about you, Malfoy! It makes people want to slap you or slap themselves silly. You're like this annoying pest that is always there no matter how much repellent you use. Or this Flobberworm that must exist although it serves absolutely no purpose other than to drive people nuts. Really, how can anyone be so despicable, frustrating, moronic, idiotic-"

"You're wrong," said Draco suddenly. "Only biased idiots like Weasel thinks that I'm a moronic idiot—he thinks that every single Slytherin's bad news. But truth is, I wasn't appointed as a Prefect because of my stupidity. I didn't get an Outstanding for Potions by being a Flobberworm. You're always seeing me in a bad light, that's what."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Can you blame me?" she asked rudely, but she didn't care about politeness—not when he was a Malfoy. "First you sniggered about me being the 'other woman'. Then you told me not to discuss your love life when you started it in the first place. Finally, you called me a liar when you haven't the faintest idea about anything! I guess _you_ should know, Malfoy, you're the expert in lies after all."

She watched him in wonder as he took a step forward.

"Pansy, Lavender and Amelia were lies," he said evenly. Hermione noticed that everything was deadly silent. Including the footsteps that were supposed to be heard outside the classroom. "They meant nothing. Heck, if Lavender announced that I 'had a fling' with her, then she's the biggest liar, full stop. And Amelia only encouraged herself—I wasn't winking at her. I was winking at the girl beside her—the girl who was too busy fawning over Potter to notice anything."

Hermione was suddenly aware of how close Draco was to her. Strangely, though, she didn't feel repulsed or sickened. In fact, there was a light tinge of wintergreen about him—it wasn't altogether unpleasant.

"I'm sure she wasn't fawning over Potter, I mean, Harry," said Hermione at last. "Ginny'd have killed her."

"Ginny wasn't around," said Draco as he raised an eyebrow. "I was certain that the girl was obsessed with Potter—how else can she be oblivious to my charms?"

"Just because she didn't notice your wink doesn't mean that she's in love with Harry. Besides, you're the only one aware of your imaginary charms."

"Not just my wink. She totally ignored all the hints I dropped—and I dropped a lot of them."

"Perhaps she isn't as bright as Your Royal Highness."

"I doubt it. She's one of the smartest witches I know…even if I wouldn't admit it to anyone."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. He was standing so close that if she listened closely, she swore that she couldn've heard the beating of his heart—_if he had a heart, that_ _is,_ she added to herself.

"Drop another hint then. Maybe things'll be different."

Draco smiled, and to her surprise, it wasn't mocking or unfriendly. "If you say so," he whispered, bending a little.

And with that, he kissed her.

The moment between the time it took for him to kiss her and for her to realize what Draco was doing seemed to stretch on forever. She saw him bending over her, and pressing his lips against hers, before she closed her eyes. There weren't any moons or crystal fountains in the classroom, but the kiss was still as excruciatingly sweet as their first. His fringe tickled her forehead and their noses brushed against each other, but if she was given a chance to relive the moment, she wouldn't change a thing. For a split second, she thought that she heard the quiet chuckle of a child and a strange flashback of a beautiful garden with silvery hydras, but everything faded away when Draco drew her closer. They continued that way for a while—never going too far, yet never pulling away.

"Do you think if she's gotten the hint now?" smiled Draco as he carefully brushed a curl away from between her eyes with a slim finger. Before she could answer, he pressed a finger gently against her lips. "I think I'll just find out for myself," he teased, before covering her mouth with his.

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**A/n:** If you didn't review last time, then please do now! Not only will you put a big smile on my face, you'll also have this chapter dedicated to you as well! So be a reviewer, and enjoy! 


	5. If Only For A Day

**A/n:** The usual disclaimer works here…Sorry for the late chapter! I would love to thank everyone who reviewed, and I would love to say…..ENJOY!

If Only For a Day

It was just harmless snogging. Just a gesture of affection between two people who were just getting their first taste of what ecstasy could be like. The difference was that unlike other relationships, theirs involved two feuding houses, and to be frank, occurred at a time when animosity and dissent filled the air with their noxious presence.

So instead of breaking into a wide, knowing smile upon walking into the classroom where Draco and Hermione were sharing one of the most unforgettable moments in their lives, Harry took a deep breath, strode up to Draco, and delivered one of the most satisfying punches he had ever mustered in his life. He didn't even bother to take out his wand and blast the slim Slytherin against the cold brick walls; he just used the most primal but effective weapon he had—his fist. In the future, Harry might wonder what made him capable of such impetuousness and such impulsive behaviour, but at that moment, nothing seemed better than the sound of his fist making contact with Draco's jaw.

Hermione was the first to recover from the shock of seeing her best friend assaulting the boy whom she'd just kissed.

"Stop it!" she shouted before Draco could reach for his own wand. "Honestly, Harry, what's gotten into you? If it were Ron, it might be understandable, but you-"

"And what's that supposed to mean?" shot Harry at once. She couldn't bear to look at the anger in his eyes, as its feral glint sent chills of nervousness up her spine. Still, Hermione wasn't a Gryffindor for being a coward. "So it's all right for Ron to hit Malfoy and not me? Gee, Hermione, I didn't know that you practised double standards." His voice ended on a cold, sarcastic note.

Hermione blinked furiously for a moment. Who was this creature who claimed to be her best friend? Where was the boy who mediated her arguments with Ron and pointed out the rationale behind her words while others mocked her for having a holier-than-thou attitude? When did he morph into a fist-swinging monster with no qualms whatsoever about hitting a Prefect?

"Don't you dare talk to me about double standards," she snarled back harsher than intended. "We're supposed to set aside our differences and work together against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, remember? Even the Sorting Hat said-"

"Work together?" interrupted Harry in disbelief. "Work together to do what? Aid the death of Sirius? Oh, excuse me, I forgot that thanks to this moron, the only person whom I'd ever considered a proper guardian is ALREADY DEAD!"

"He's dead because of Bellatrix!" shouted Hermione, her head spinning. She couldn't believe that after all these times, she was at loggerheads with Harry over something that they had both tried to forget, but never could. "And Draco didn't kill him, his own cousin did!"

"He did!" snarled Harry. "He was working with Umbridge, remember? And-"

"Shut up, Harry!" shouted Hermione. She felt her eyes stinging, but she refused to admit that tears were forming in her eyes. "Stop blaming others, please! It all comes down to you and your refusal to heed Dumbledore's instructions about Occlumency-"

"So it's now my fault, isn't it?" asked Harry softly. "That's how you see it, I see. It's nobody's fault but mine."

Hermione blinked back tears, when she saw that she was fast losing her best friend. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to-"

"You don't have to be sorry," interrupted an amused voice. The both of them broke their gaze and glanced at Draco, who was dabbing his nose delicately with a bloodied handkerchief. "He came in here of his own accord. Nobody asked him to punch me, but he did, and if anyone should feel apologetic, it is Potter. Not you, not me but Potter. Cold? Maybe. True? Absolutely."

He walked towards Harry and extended a hand, albeit somewhat grudgingly. "I asked you once, Potter," he said hesitantly, "and this will mark the second time I'm offering my hand in friendship."

Hermione bit her lip and gazed imploringly at Harry to end this childishness and take Draco's hand. Draco seemed to share her thoughts, as he said, "Hurry up, Potter. This Bloodclot Charm is only temporary, and the hospital wing beckons. If you're nice, I'll tell Madam Pomfrey that I fell."

Harry looked at Hermione, and she nodded. He took a deep breath, the words of the Sorting Hat ringing true in his head:

_Though I am condemned to split you all_

_Still I worry that it is wrong_

He thought how Sirius falling through the veil. How he'd woken up for weeks after that incident to find his pillow damp. He'd never told anyone about that.

_Oh, know the perils, read the signs_

_The warning history shows,_

_For Hogwarts is in danger_

_From external, deadly foes_

That was what Dumbledore and the Hat preached—unity. And Hermione did look happy with Draco. He looked questioningly into his nemesis's icy grey eyes that seemed to be laughing with amusement at his indecisiveness.

He took Draco's hand.

For a while, it looked as though that would be the end; Harry and Draco would become friends, he'd persuade Ron to react similarly and all would end well. But as Hermione broke into relieved laughter, and advanced to embrace the both of them, Draco twisted Harry's arm before elbowing him sharply in the stomach.

"_Now,_ we're equal," he smirked. His smirk faded when Harry crumpled to the ground, and did not get up.

"Harry?" called Hermione anxiously, shooting a glance of pure venom at Draco. "What's wrong?"

The silence the followed made her blood run cold with ice. "What did you do?" she demanded shrilly. "He accepted your hand, for God's sake!"

Draco brushed his blond hair back, his face wearing a bewildered expression. "I don't know!" he retorted. "It was just a nifty move I learnt from Goyle—"

"That was horrible of you, Malfoy," snapped Hermione as she inspected Harry's pulse. "He was so unassuming and innocent--"

"I'm a Slytherin, Hermione!" interjected Draco, kicking Harry's leg. "You can't expect me to accept a Gryffindor's hand without any ulterior motives!" He stopped short when his words started to sink in.

"Ulterior motives?" echoed Hermione, turning her face slowly to face him. "So there's an 'ulterior motive' behind you kissing me? God, Malfoy, that's a sick way of living your life. Don't you ever do anything that comes from your heart? Maybe Harry is right."

"No!" snapped Draco so loudly that Hermione jumped. "I mean, no, Potter is wrong. I really do…like you, Hermione. It's just that Harry and I-"

"Stow it," said Hermione shortly. She squeezed her eyes shut in hope that it was all a bad dream, and that reality would be much more uncomplicated. "I've heard enough, Malfoy. Just enough."

"So we're not on first-name terms any longer?" sneered Draco. She thought that he would be livid, but he wasn't. "After all that happened, you're just going to decide that you 'had enough'? Don't any of these mean anything to you? I thought that you don't need Cupid's arrow to like me, but it looks like that's not the case."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, sure. You wouldn't remember. I'm the one who's left to deal with those memories, while you go about thinking that Malfoy's a sneak, a moron."

"What are you talking about?"

"You walked in on me while I was in the Garden Room that Salazar built for Rowena. Cupid shot you with a golden arrow. We…kissed. You left. The next time I saw you, you remembered nothing. Then I decided to give things another shot, and Potter came in. Now here we are, relieving those memories again."

Hermione stared at Draco, but she failed to see any traces of laughter. Instead, she saw something that resembled disappointment. "I kissed you…before? That's impossible. I'd have remembered, surely."

Draco stared back at her. She saw that his face was still bruised, and his nose was beginning to bleed again. There he stood, in his black robes, his Prefect badge gleaming distractingly on his breast, his hair slicked back in the same manner which he'd worn since she first saw him. Nobody else could've carried the haughty look as well as he did, she realised.

But she saw something else. He also looked tired and disappointed. It was strange seeing him like that, without the trademark sneer on his pale face. Admittedly, she wasn't offended when he kissed her; she'd enjoyed it, even. And strangely, as he turned his grey eyes away from hers, she could almost remember something that he'd said before. She shut her eyes. What was it……

_"It's because I didn't want to push you away. Granger….Hermione, I kissed you because I love you. Don't ask me how it came about—I don't know myself. But I do love you, and I don't want you to kiss me simply because of magic"_

The sensation of kissing somebody whom she had always harboured feelings for, but never allowed herself to acknowledge those feelings, came back rushing to her. At the back of her memories, she thought that she heard the sweet laughter of nymphs, as she felt his nose brushing against hers. Hermione never cried, at least not in front of a Slytherin, but at that moment, she felt as if she could, for it was as though the most beautiful thing was happening, and she didn't know what she did to deserve it. As her head spun with questions, she found herself wondering if she could possibly sharing the most beautiful moment of all with the boy who once called her Mudblood.

She opened her eyes, and discovered that she could.

It wasn't the Garden Room, and there weren't any crystal moons. But as Draco pulled away from her, and raised an eyebrow at her, she nodded. It was the most beautiful moment of all and she had remembered.

Amidst it all, Harry Potter silently smiled in anguish. He had feigned unconsciousness to see if Draco's feelings for Hermione were true, and it turned out that she'd still like him, whether or not he was a slimy git. He was glad that their faces were turned away; he couldn't stomach another blow. It confused him that he found himself wondering what it would be like to be Malfoy, if only for a day.

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**A/n:** Flame me, criticise me, praise me—go ahead. I'm not picky. Oh yes, once again, **thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter**! It was great of you to actually spare a few seconds/minutes on my humble fic, and for that, you know that this chapter is for you. Ciao! 


	6. Tripping On Words

A/n: I'm so terribly sorry for the late update; I guess I've been doing more reading these days than writing. As a token of my regret, I'll dedicate this chapter to everyone who's reading this, especially those who've waited for this chapter (er, I am seriously wondering if anyone out there is reading this thing!)! I'll stop rambling now and just let you read. Don't forget to tell me what you think, because I do care.

P.S.: I listened to Lifehouse's You and Me while writing this. It's a beautiful song, if I do say so myself.

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Chapter 2 – **Tripping On Words**

All of the things I want to say  
Just aren't coming out right  
I'm **tripping on words,** you got my head spinning  
I don't know where to go from here

_"Draco my son, do you understand completely the responsibility that you bear as the sole heir of your father? Do you still remember everything that he has taught you, reminded you?"_

_"Yes mother."_

_"A contract made with the Dark Lord cannot be broken once allegiance is sworn, and the Mark imprinted."_

_"That was one of the first things Father said, Mother."_

_"The family name, my son. Remember the family name."_

Did he really want to become a Death Eater? In certain cases, it wasn't something that you choose to be; it was a choice, a selection exclusive to Voldemort alone. Voldemort and the family name. The Dark Lord only picked the best to serve as his masked servants, and Lucius once mentioned in passing that there was a test to determine if one was truly qualified enough to step into the inner sanctum.

As he adjusted his collar in front of the mirror, Draco tried not to think about what awaited in the near future, if Lucius's escape proved unfruitful. He knew, from a young age, that if anything should happen to his father, there was more to the inheritance that meets eye. But he had no reason to worry, Draco assured himself. With Voldemort's imminent ascendance, and the Dementors' adherence to the Dark side, there was no reason why Draco should worry about anything more than the family name.

"Do you want to listen to my new lyrics?" simpered an unsolicited voice at his elbow, causing a wave of irritation to wash over him. It was her again. Parkinson, barging into his dorm at the crack of dawn. How could it be possible that he never noticed how pug-like her face was? Even more infuriating was the way she hung around him, like a giggly bimbo sans the looks.

"What lyrics?" he snapped irascibly; the past conversation he had with his mother still weighed heavily on his mind. "You came up with lyrics? _Bravo_."

Pansy blinked stupidly, wondering if her blonde Draco was being sarcastic with her. Still, she persevered like a dogged girlfriend. He's a Slytherin, she tried to reason. There's no reason why he shouldn't be cold and indifferent…

_But not with me._

"Yes,' she said meekly. "Since you were so brilliant on Weasel-bashing, I figured that I should get his girlfriend too—that beaver-Granger."

Something inside him snapped; he had once heard his Goyle use the term 'beaver' in a crass manner to describe a certain kind of woman, and although Pansy's usage had nothing to do with Goyle's version, Draco's hatred for her flared all the same.

"Don't," he snarled icily, "let me hear you talking about her that way."

"She is not Weasley's girlfriend," he added, but only under his breath. She's not.

Blaise Zabini, who had been slicking his long black hair back, cocked his head at Draco and frowned. "Do I hear you defending a Mudblood, Malfoy?" he asked casually, but he did not meet Draco's eyes. "The very one who once slapped you, no less?"

"Perhaps," responded Draco smoothly. "But as always, I have my reasons."

Blaise's eyes crept over to where Pansy stood, transfixed with shock. "At least," he ventured half-jokingly, "make an effort to clear things up with Pansy here. She's frightened."

Draco spared him a glance before walking towards Pansy's, and draped an arm over her shoulder. "Frightened?" he asked with a smirk, "now, who could possibly be frightened of me? My father's in Azkaban, isn't he? Who should be frightened of 'ol Malfoy when Potter's running around playing hero?"

Blaise crossed his arms across his chest. He was much taller than Draco but there was something about young Malfoy that was discretely intimidating. "You may have your little joke," he smiled, "but even the Slytherins think twice before contradicting you. You've changed, Malfoy," said Blaise warily. "Once, our old Quidditch captain wouldn't think twice about flaying you verbally for losing out to Potter, but now…." He trailed off, accentuating his reluctance to voice whatever it was that ran through his mind.

"It's not I, who have changed," said Draco with a half-smile that ended at his lips. "It's the circumstances. It's because of Potter unveiling my father as a Death Eater. Now, everyone expects me to turn into another masked murderer."

It was a shock to both Blaise and Pansy to hear Draco speak of his father that way. But before either could open their mouths, Draco smiled hurriedly, though a shadow did fleet over his eyes.

"It was a joke," he said with a raised eyebrow. "Now, let us have breakfast….perhaps there's still time to knock a few points off Gryffindor."

Pansy smiled nervously. Now, _that_ sounded like the old Draco.

_"Rest assured, Mother," said Draco in a pacifying tone. "I will do everything I can to bring honour to the family name."_

_"It's enough if you don't tarnish your father's legacy," snapped Narcissa as she reached for the half-filled glass of Gobberstein's Gin, a colourless liquid which hissed quietly. "What with your grades, not befitting that of an heir."_

_Draco kept his mouth shut. He knew that his mother was only suffering from the imprisonment of her husband, and the endless testimonials forced out of her from the Interrogators. A muscle in his cheek tightened. "Perhaps you should get some sleep, Mother. I will be leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow," he said quietly as she Summoned the bottle of Gin with a cry of 'Accio Gin!'. _

_His advice passed unheard and unheeded._

"Excellent method of grinding the Thestrals' fangs," said Snape silkily as he swept past Draco. "But I trust that you can do better," he added with a warning smile. Draco jolted out of his daydream, and hurriedly continued with the tedious task of turning fangs into powder. It was horribly uncharacteristic of him to display negligence in front of the Hufflepuffs, whom they were having Double Potions with. Already, Hannah Abbot was nudging her brunette friend and they snickered knowingly. Draco almost blanched at the sight of Hufflepuffs snickering.

_Afraid of me, my foot! _

But the incident left a dent in his subconscious. He had a bitter taste of what it was like to be the laughingstock of the Slytherin House. It would cause all foundations he had lain to come crumbling down. His mother wouldn't be pleased, and the Dark Lord…He shuddered to think what Voldemort would make out of Lucius's son, who successfully carved a name for himself as school jester.

Did Voldemort keep an eye on every Death Eater's heirs? If so, Draco was temporarily reassured by the fact that Crabbe and Goyle's achievements would make him seem like the Hermione Granger of his house.

Granger. His insides writhed at the thought of Voldemort discovering that he had consorted with a Mudblood. Not that he had _consorted_ with her yet, a little voice in his head shot back. There's still time to back out. Yeah.

But another side of him knew that Hermione herself knew what she was getting into the moment she kissed him, and thus far, she didn't seem to give a damn about what Voldemort thought. He was half impressed by and half envied her. She appeared to lead a charmed life, with the omnipotent Potter acting as a living Patronus at her side. Why should she be afraid if Voldemort come a-calling? She had Potter and his heroism, that's why! It was only he, Draco, who lay awake every night, thinking of the disappointment he was being to his mother, and the shame he was bringing to the family name.

The family name.

"Deep in thought, aren't we?" jeered Peeves the Poltergeist as Draco walked along the corridors. "Why, Peevies here didn't know that rodents are capable of thinking! Hey, I heard that rabbits eat their own dung! Do ferrets-"

"_Silencio_!" shouted Draco angrily and forcefully. Every strand of his silvery-blond hair felt as though it was standing at its end, and he honestly hadn't expected anything to happen, as the spell would just pass the poltergeist, but to his increasingly astonishment, Peeves did shut up. What was more, the poltergeist had a shrewd look in his eyes; they reflected the surprise in Draco's own grey ones.

"The only one who could control Peeves is the Bloody Baron," Draco breathed under his breath. He sneaked a look around; the ghost was no where in sight. So what silenced Peeves? Draco couldn't bring himself to believe that his spell had done that.

Draco took a deep breath and walked away. He needed to go to the Secret Garden. He had to ask Cupid for a favour. With each step that took him close to the room, Draco felt his heart sinking. If only there was a place where he and Granger could show up together at the Great Hall and not be ostracized. A sudden surge of selfishness made him wish that she was born a Pureblood instead of common Mudblood, but it was quickly washed over.

_Whatever happens, I'll still think that she's different form other girls,_ he thought as he entered the room.

_I just can't let her know that. Not yet. _The world seemed to be spinning as he was welcomed by the serene sight of the ever-present moon. Absently, Draco found himself wondering what the garden would look like if it was day time. It would be more beautiful, he decided. Up in a rowan tree infested by Bowtruckles, Cupid watched sadly as the young master approached him.


End file.
